


Round the Old Oak Tree

by BrightStarling



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fix-It, It's a very nice song, M/M, Post BotFA, Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree AU, reunite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:50:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4577664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightStarling/pseuds/BrightStarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin imagined himself walking toward the halfling, and that the imaginary hobbit tilted his head.<br/>    "It's been three long years,"the king told him,"do you still want me?"<br/>    But Bilbo just laughed and did not reply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Round the Old Oak Tree

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics are stuck in my head and the song wouldn't stop playing until I have this finished.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this one. It's sweet and gentle and just how I imagined things should be:-)
> 
> Enjoy!

    "Uncle Bilbo! Look! A talking bird!"

    "Yes, yes, Frodo. Now go wash your hands and lunch will be ready, "Bilbo replied absent-mindedly as he tried to set out the table. The hobbit frowned. He was quite sure that there were more of his mother's spoons in the cupboard, especially the silver ones. Seems that somebody will have to go and have some _very loud words_ with that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins again...

    Something in the kitchen crashed and Bilbo immediately spun around, nearly knocking over a nice bowl of vegetable stew on the counter. A huge black bird was perched on the dinning table with a strip of pork between its beak. It raised its right leg impatiently when Bilbo just froze right on the spot. Frodo peeked into the kitchen with a sheepish smile.

    "Bilbo Baggins, message!"The bird hollered, before shamelessly swallowing down another piece of meat. It hopped toward the chicken salad but Bilbo finally blinked out of his blankness and managed to snatch the bowl before the black bird could stick its beak inside. The bird just _shrugged_ before returning to the pork chops. It raised its right leg again. The older hobbit hurried forward when he spotted a scroll attached there. He carefully undid the strings and properly thanked the bird with a few of his famed raspberry tarts. The creature turned significantly more polite afterwards.

    "Who is it, Uncle Bilbo? What does it say?"

    Bilbo quickly unrolled the scroll as Frodo watched with uncontended curiosity. Once done scanning, the elder hobbit instantly paled with his eyes wide.

    This is...no, it can't be. It just _can't_. Three years with absolutely no news and suddenly _this_?

    Something in his chest clenched painfully when certain memories came flooding back.

    Hobbits do not favor height just like they dislike water.

    It had taken him more time than he had expected to stop having nightmares about dangling on the stone walls of Erebor, feet kicking helplessly midair......

 

    Frodo watched worriedly as his guardian bent down to pick up the shattered pieces of the water flask knocked down earlier by their unexpected guest. His uncle suddenly looked so troubled. Not knowing what to do, the boy searched his mind for the name of the huge black bird. He knew that he had its name somewhere but at the moment, with Uncle Bilbo all tired and suddenly quiet, he just couldn't remember.

   

    That night, after Bilbo had tucked him snugly to bed, a pair of eyes the color of summer's sky flew open. Tiny hobbit feet padded silently across the the hall after he made sure that the other resident in Bag End had retired to bed. Frodo slipped inside his Uncle's study without making a noise. With full moon gazing gently down upon Hobbiton, he finished reading the letter and placed it back to where it belonged in the drawer.

    Back to his own room, the name of the bird he's seen earlier suddenly returned.

    _Raven_ , he thought, _it was called a raven_.

 

    x----x

 

    They reached the Green Dragon in good time, which was, one day before the promised date or right before bedtime. Kili nearly adopted a warg pup and Bombur had an accident with the campfire, but their journey was generally much smoother this time compared to elvish dungeons and sinking goblin caves. Most of the Company had wanted to go straight for their burglar(and his marvelous cooking skills), but in the end they all agreed that Master Baggins perhaps would not be too pleased to be welcoming his guests in his nightgown.

    And a bit of good ale couldn't possibly hurt, right?

 

    Thorin watched wearily as his nephews clambered up the table and started a drinking song that would have made any proper hobbit blush. He wondered briefly whether he should interfere when Fili pulled his brother down for a sloppy kiss, then decided that the two are old enough to handle the embarrassment when their heads are no longer seeped in alcohol. Nori was trying to give Bofur a lap dance, the latter laughing so hard that he did not realize it even when the content in a swaying Oin's mug was slowly soaking through his hat.

    Balin settled down beside the king with his pipe in hand, an amused look on his face as Dwalin declared a wrestling match on Dori. Thorin fumbled for his pipe but accepted his friend's when it was nowhere to be found.

    "You ate and drank little, Thorin."

    The dwarven king just grunted in return, his ice-blue eyes fixated on the dancing flames in the fireplace. They stayed silent like that until Dori pinned the bald warrior onto the ground and the spectators broke into a cheer. Gloin voiced his concerns about sleeping hobbits and angry innkeepers and how uncomfortable it would be to sleep on cold hard ground, Bombur called him a douchebag and in no time the two were rolling on the ground as the crowd clamoured at the new round of fight.

    "I have a lot on my mind,"Thorin replied.

    And it was true. A certain hobbit would have said that he was brooding, and Thorin wasn't going to deny it. The entire company had gone into a frenzy when their king mentioned visiting Hobbiton. In fact, all of them had gotten packed within an hour. He remember seeing Fili and Kili's identical grins at his chamber, the rest of the others waiting outside expectantly in full armour.

    Thorin would have liked to share their eagerness, really, but none but him had hung their burglar on the high walls of Erebor, called him descendant of rats, and would have coldly watch him fall to his death had Gandalf not interfered. None but him had shared desperate kisses with Bilbo when the night was deep as they got closer to the Lonely Mountain day by day. There were promises and vows Thorin had meant to keep word by word but all was lost when their healer informed him their burglar's journey home after he woke up a week after the battle.

   

_"I will adorn you with the finest jewels Erebor has to offer,"Thorin muttered reverently, after another late night meeting,"I will dress you in gold and silver, and I will wrought you a crown of mithril myself so anyone who lay their eyes on you will know your worth."_

_Bilbo just looked at him, his kiss-swollen lips quirked up in amusement,"What would I do with jewels or gold or mithril? I am a hobbit, Thorin. Hobbits value good food and good books and good company above all things. We have little need for jewelry."_

_Thorin pulled the hobbit into his arms. He could feel the soft curls tickling his nose,"Then you shall have Erebor's library and King Under the Mountain at your disposal,"he paused for a while before continuing,"And a garden. A garden that will make even the elves of Rivendell jealous. Then you can grow all those fruits and vegetables that please you so."_

_"A garden?"Bilbo raised his head to watch the dwarf, his eyes reflecting the light of the stars,"On the bleak and barren mountainside of Erebor?"_

_Um, so maybe a lapse of thought there. But then with a good irrigation system, it is not entirely impossible, right? They can get the soil and seeds from the settlements of man. And, uh, whatever else it takes to build a garden. He tried to explain the idea to Bilbo, but the halfling must have read his mind since he just pulled Thorin down for another kiss and laughed._

 

    Memories like this kept flowing back. Thorin did not realize that he had been burying his face in his arms until he looked up and met his friend's worried gaze. He felt a bit sorry for Balin for having to worry about pretty much just everything going on in Middle Earth, but then there really was little for him to do. Especially when a particular hobbit should decide his fate tomorrow.

    The meerymaking had gradually simmered down to exchange of tales and what they planned on doing/eating upon arriving at Bag End. Ori was practically brimming with excitement as he pulled out a thick leather book with beautiful handwriting--a book of dwarven tales which he had translated into Westron for Bilbo. Dori patted his youngest brother in approval and the scribe beamed. Kili showed off the arrowheads he had made for the hobbit(Bilbo doesn't even use a bow--but nobody had the heart to point that out when the prince looked so positively proud of himself. They just hoped that Bilbo appreciated the sentiment.) and others started talking about their presents as well. In fact, as it turned out, everyone had prepared a little something for their favorite burglar. Bifur had a mini version of Smaug carved out in wood and neatly painted in the exact shade of red of the dragon's scales. Dwalin just snorted but his face turned bright red when Nori asked him who the tiny battle axe was for.

    Thorin gingerly reached for his pocket until he felt the little sack in his hands. It suddenly felt heavier as one dwarf after another named their gifts for the halfling, even though hair beads--even if embedded with shards of the Arkenstone--could not possibly weigh a thing. The dwarf himself shifted with unease as he thought of the pile of presents that would be presented to Bilbo. He had forged the beads with great care but what if they fail to catch the burglar's eyes?

     "He had received your letter, Thorin,"the white-haired dwarf said kindly after examining their king, sending a perfect smoke ring into the air, "We shall see the result tomorrow. And as far as I am concerned, hobbits really are not creatures to hold grudges."

    Thorin had been trying to convince himself the same thing over the past three years. He had wanted to take off right away after he got discharged from the infirmary but then there was the reconstruction of Erebor and suddenly so much paperwork for the king to tend to. His sister, Dis, had not arrived until half a year ago for she had insisted on staying in Ered Luin until the last dwarf there had got onto wagons heading for the Lonely Mountain. Only then did Thorin finally have someone to take care of Erebor in his stead as the company set out to find their fourteenth member once again.

    Another image of the hobbit appeared in his head, this time smiling serenely at Beorn's front yard with a mass circle of bunnies cuddling around him. Bilbo's hazel curls were dancing in the wind as he had simply given up taming them.

    Thorin imagined himself walking toward the halfling and that the imaginary hobbit tilted his head.

    "It's been three long years,"the king told him,"do you still want me?"

    But Bilbo just laughed and did not reply.

 

    x----x

 

    Frodo had insisted upon hearing his adventure with the dwarves all over again that afternoon. And who was Bilbo to deny those pleading blue eyes? Bilbo had planned on a bit of gardening that day but a glance at his nephew clutching the picture book Bilbo had made for him made the older hobbit give in. His turnips and radishes can wait.

    Though to be honest, gardening these days just didn't feel right. He still tend to his prize-winning tomatoes, sure, but Bilbo could no longer feel that surge of pride when passing hobbits look at them enviously. Sometimes he'd even catch himself thinking about a garden in the mountain a certain king had promised him, but usually Bilbo just turn back watering the plants and make sure to hide his wistfulness before his nephew.

    "--so big! Weren't you afraid, Uncle Bilbo?"

    Bilbo blinked as the hobbitling squealed in excitement, pointing at the white orc's giant mace. The older hobbit winced as he was once again reminded of the blazing trees and Thorin hitting the ground with a painful thud. He remembered Gandalf gasping and the Company crying out in despair--

    "Uncle Bilbo?"

    "Of course I was afraid, Frodo,"he said softly to the tiny hobbit still looking at him for an answer,"but I was the only one close enough to help. I couldn't just watch Azog kill Thorin, now can I?"

    "No,"the boy quickly agreed, blunt nails scratching the page unconsciously,"but you could have died if the eagles were late."

    "All of us would have died then, in that case."Bilbo remained him.

    "That's _different_."

    Bilbo reached out to ruffle the hobbitling's unruly curls and smiled. Frodo is young, perhaps a bit too young to understand......certain things.

    How was he supposed to tell him about the king's eyes which always soften when they were focused on him, or to explain that should the dwarf die, then a part of him will die, too?

    "How about we first get some tea and biscuits then continue later?"

    Frodo happily hopped off the couch, the older hobbit stood up as well to follow those swift tiny feet into the kitchen. Bilbo did not do much that day, not really, but he did feel more tired than usual. Perhaps it was the storytelling that was wearing him out. Anyway, if he would like to finish his adventure before dinner, he would need some nice hot tea to help him carry on.

    On second thought, probably lots and lots of tea. Hmm.

    Suddenly a loud crash came from the roof and made Bilbo jumped. His hand instincly reached for Sting(which was of course not with him at the moment. No hobbit in his right mind would carry a sword around in his hobbit hole. Except for maybe Lobelia. That woman wields her parasole like some deadly weapon. But then Lobelia's not exactly in her right mind, is she? ) before racing out of the front door to see what was going on. Just because Bag End looks like a tiny hill doesn't mean you should go tramping on it. Walking on other hobbit's roof is terrible manners at best, and the master of Bag End is _more than ready_ to give the intruder an earful.

    But when he took in the sight before him, Bilbo just gaped. He was so surprised that he even forgot to help young Samwise Gamgee who was rubbing his back painfully(and who no doubt caused the crashing noise) back to his feet. Frodo came running out behind but halted abruptly behind his uncle with his hands at his back. Two heads with bouncing curls peeked out from the branches of the oak tree above Bag End, their expression showing different levels of shock at the sight of the grown-up hobbit.

    "We'll be done in a moment, Mister Bilbo!"Pippin called cheerfully out with a tiny wave. Merry smacked his companion on the back of his head.

   

    Bilbo didn't even bother asking if Frodo had read his letter: of course he did. He just turned to face his nephew who was fidgeting nervously.

    "Did you...?"The older hobbit gestured weakly at the general direction of the tree.

    Frodo nodded slightly, his hands still hidden at his back.

    "But don't you...don't you remember what I told you, about the Arkenstone and the gold sickness?"

    "But you miss him, Uncle,"the hobbitling raised his head, his eyes the color of summer's sky meeting emerald ones.

    Then the lad stepped forward and handed his uncle a large yellow ribbon. From the rich color and high quality of the material, Bilbo distinctly remember seeing it at Lobelia's sitting room.

    "Frodo talked Mister Otho into giving him that!"Pippin supplied proudly, Merry smacked him again.

    "Oi! What was that for?"

    "Frodo told us not to tell Mister Bilbo that!"

    The two boys started bickering but Bilbo wasn't really listening. His eyes stung and his heart felt both heavier and lighter than ever, and his lips were trembling yet threatening to quirk up at the same time.

    "We're giving these back to everyone after we're done. Alright, boys?"

    "Yes, Uncle/Mister Bilbo!" the hobbitlings shouted in unison and cheered.

 

    x----x

   

    It was early morning when Thorin slipped out of the Green Dragon. The rest of the dwarves were still asleep, blissfully unaware of the hangover that awaits once they regain consciousness. Hobbits are early-rising fellows indeed, since the dwarf king could already see many of them chattering on the side of the road or humming happily to themselves.

    Thorin felt bad for leaving his companions, but he knew that unlike the quest to reclaim Erebor, this is his quest and his alone. If Bilbo said yes, then Thorin definitely would want some time spent alone with the burglar; if Bilbo declined......well, then he would need some time to himself to recover from the foreseeable heartbreak that would heal probably sometime around the next Age.

    Either way, Thorin would have to see for himself.

    Determined, the dwarf king set out for the last leg of his journey, back to where everything started.

 

    "Mahal, what _exactly_ does the hobbits put in their ale? Feels like somebody hitting my head with a war hammer..."

    "Quiet, Bombur! Thorin will hear us!"

    "Why don't you two just speak a bit louder? I don't think the elves at Mirkwood can hear you."

    "Shut up, head...hurts..."

 

    Many hobbits threw curious glances at the dwarf, but Thorin didn't really mind their attention this time. He remembered giving hobbits odd looks during his first visit to the Shire. By then he had little to no respect for these round-bellied creatures who knew nothing of war or hunger or dragons. As for now--

    His mind wandered once again to a certain hobbit, who started the journey whining about sleeping on the hard ground and the absence of his handkerchief.

    Who also tricked trolls, fought wargs and goblins with that tiny letter opener, riddled with the dratted gollum creature in the dark, freed them from the Elven king's dungeon, faced down the dragon alone and helped them win back their home.

    Not to mention he also saved Thorin's life.

    The king had to stop himself there. The hobbits were looking at him strangely again, this time at his face. Dis had told him more than once that he has a tendency to glare when he thinks.

    So Thorin schooled his expression into something softer(he hoped) and tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere. He thought of the old days when Erebor was still the richest dwarven kingdom in Middle Earth. His grandfather, before that blasted Arkenstone was found, would often place him on the throne when they spend their time together. He did not understand the significance of the gesture by then, but now he could easily feel the weight of the entire kingdom on his shoulders. His grandmother used to open(one of) her jewel boxes and lay out all the precious stones inside, pressing each kind of stone against her grandson's palms. His sister was much more skilled in recognizing jewels while young Thorin had his mind set on becoming a proficient warrior. Their grandmother had gathered Thorin in her arms while explaining that even the greatest warriors need to know the name of each stone. Otherwise how else is he supposed to court his One, then?

    He thought of the emerald bangle his grandmother used to wear, and couldn't stop himself in time before those warm eyes of Bilbo's once again appeared in his mind.

    Thorin had to fight to keep the mask of nonchalance on his face, because dwarven kings are _not_ sentimental and they definitely do _not_ cry.

 

    "Thank the Maker that sod did not get lost this time."

    "Dwalin, we're supposed to stay silent, remember?"

    "Fili, I think that pretty hobbit lass just smiled at me!"

    "It's a miracle that Uncle has not hear us yet..."

 

    Thorin knew that he was getting closer and closer to Bag End. A part of him wanted to start running and only stop until he could see Bilbo's hazel curls peeking out from a round window. Another part of him wanted nothing more than to bolt for the opposite direction and never come back.

    In the end Thorin just carried on stiffly as he sent Mahal a silent prayer for strength and for luck. He had told Bilbo in the letter, in order to avoid unnecessary awkwardness, to tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree if he still want him.

    If Bilbo wanted him no more, then Thorin would return to Erebor without complaint and give whoever his intended had chosen to spend the rest his life with his best whishes.

    Even if the king would have died inside should it ever come to that.

 

    "Is anything wrong? Why did he stop walking?"

    "I can't see anything behind your stupid hat! What is going on?"

    "Um, is Thorin actually _crying_?"

    "I say we stop hiding and just go see what is bloody happening!"

    "Gloin wait-- _comer back_! Confound it all. Dori grab him!"

 

    Thorin's jaw fell slightly open, his face blank as Bag End started blurring up before him. The dwarf quickly wiped away the wetness in his eyes but more than a few drops had escaped, yet he made no move to stop them. For some time all the king could do was to stand motionlessly gazing down at the hobbit hole with the green door, tear drops soaking through his beard.

    Then he laughed, startling the rest of the dwarves stalking him. Thorin rarely laughs, in fact, not even himself could remember the last time he had laughed so hard ever since Smaug came and Erebor had fallen. The sound of his own laughter surprised the dwarf king himself. It sounded like a heart being torn into a thousand pieces, then mended and put back together by a pair of clever hobbit hands.

 

    A hundred yellow ribbons round the old oak tree, fluttering like butterflies in the early morning breeze.

 

    Thorin knew he probably looked like a grinning idiot and there were some suspicious cheering noises that sounded awfully like his nosy Company, but the king really couldn't bring himself to care.

    He just smiled.

    And smiled

   

    _I'm coming home._

 

 

 

   

 

   

   

**Author's Note:**

> My first one-shot.
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcomed. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think*~


End file.
